


Staring At The Sun

by mveloc



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4197579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mveloc/pseuds/mveloc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Post-3x10.</strong> She thought that as the bullet tore through her, it was over. She had played her part, done her duty. Little did she know, the third act was only just beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** So, like many of you, I just can't accept the finale. I guess you could say this is a response fic. Hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think so far :)

 

* * *

 

_You're staring at the sun_

_You're standing in the sea_

_Your mouth is open wide_

_You're trying hard to breathe_

_The water's at your neck_

_There's lightning in your teeth_

_Your body's over me_

 

_— Staring at the Sun, **TV On The Radio**_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Through the darkness, she hears wind.

 

It’s quiet at first, almost gentle. It blows through her hair and caresses her pale skin like an old lover, with warm, steady hands and a pulse of its own. She had been so cold before, watched as the black spots of reality danced before her eyes. Then the dots expanded, swallowing her whole until there was nothing but darkness.

 

And wind.

 

The breeze becomes a gust, rousing her from whatever state she’s found herself in. Her eyelids are heavy as they try to resist gravity’s pull, only she can’t seem to conquer it. She wants to fold her arms— to hug herself, to hold onto this newfound warmth— but gravity’s claimed them, as well. She’s trapped, stone-cut and stagnant, and she’s never felt so alone in her entire life.

 

As if sensing her fear, the wind begins to cry and howl like a wolf with longing. It’s so easy for her to lose herself in its dirge, as there’s nothing else to grab hold of. As soon as she comes to truly appreciate its somber beauty, the howl becomes a whistle that’s far less appealing to the ears. In fact, she finds it rather irritating as the high-pitched sound rings out, vibrating at a frequency that only her ears can detect. She would wince if she could, but she can’t remember how to work the muscles in her face. Something inside of her seems to recognize the sound, however, because she’s being pulled in its direction, summoned like a dog to its master. 

 

As she drifts closer and closer, she finds that it isn’t the sound of a whistle at all, but a bird mid-song. She recognizes this song. Something compels her to hum along, matching the bird note-for-note. As each note is drawn out, she finds her body becoming lighter. She’s finally able to lift her arms again. Instead of hugging her chest, she extends them. She reaches towards the noise, towards her songbird, towards the only light that pierces the overwhelming density of this place.

 

_“Hey.”_

 

Her eyes flash on again. 

 

She’s staring directly into a set of amber ones that hover above her. She knows these eyes. She’s bore into them a thousand times before. She blinks a few times, trying to adjust. The eyes grow a face, a set of thick frames resting upon the bridge of the nose. She knows these frames. She’s removed them deftly in the dark so many times, setting them gently on the closest available surface. Finally, a pair of smiling lips capture her attention. She knows these lips. She’s pressed her own against them more times than she can count and yet, not nearly enough.

 

“Cosima,” she whispers, staring on in reverence. “You’re here.”

 

The brunette beams back at her, her eyes warm and glowing, tongue appearing from behind a row of teeth.

 

“Of course I’m here. What did you expect?”

 

She takes a moment to quickly scan her surroundings. She looks down to find herself in a bed she can’t remember sleeping in, in a room she’s never seen before. Everything about this place is unfamiliar apart from Cosima. She isn’t afraid, though. She isn’t alarmed by the strangeness of it all. Cosima is with her again and that’s all that matters.

 

“I was afraid— afraid you’d leave me,” she confesses, her eyes swelling with tears.

 

Cosima reaches down, caressing the side of her face with a gentle hand. She sighs, closing her eyes and melting into the touch. She can feel the tears roll down her cheeks but they disappear before they can reach her chin. She decides not to think too much about the impossibility of it all, of tears that evaporate almost instantly, of being here with Cosima. 

 

“I came back for you, remember?” Cosima tells her.

 

“I do.”

 

She opens her eyes again, meeting Cosima’s gaze. There’s such love in it, such safety and warmth. Cosima lowers herself onto the bed with Delphine, slotting herself into the tiny space at her side. She rests her head on Delphine’s chest, listening for a heartbeat that never comes.

 

“I need you,” Cosima whispers.

 

She wraps her arms around the shorter form, holding her close, inhaling deeply. The breath seems to go on forever, her lungs impossibly vast as she breathes in Cosima’s familiar scent. She can feel Cosima’s breath coming out in laboured breaths against her skin, her body very subtly quaking, and it sounds as though she might be crying. 

 

“I’m right here,” she reassures the clone.

 

Cosima shakes her head.

 

“No,” she murmurs against Delphine’s skin, right about her would-be heart. “I need you to come back.”

 

“Come back?”

 

She looks down at her lover, but as soon as her eyes land upon her, Cosima vanishes in her arms like dust in the wind. She panics momentarily, looking around for any sign of her. That’s when she notices it first— the blood. She lay in a bed of blood, wrapped in scarlet sheets that grow redder by the second. It’s _her_ blood, she comes to realize. It’s coming from _her_ , from a hole in her abdomen. She brings her hand to the wound to stop the bleeding. Once she stops it at its source, she finds that she’s no longer in a bed at all, but a bath tub.

 

A bath of blood.

 

“I need you to come back for me, Delphine.”

 

It’s Cosima’s voice, but it sounds so distant now. She calls out for her, tries to pull herself from the tub, but the lip is made of a razor’s edge and the water seems to rise higher and higher until it’s nearly at her mouth, to her eyes, over her head. She’s completely submerged in the murky red depths, unable to see or hear anything.

 

_“Come back.”_

 

She feels something tugging at her hand, pulling her towards the surface. She can’t see it herself, but she knows she’s getting closer. Closer to the surface, closer to the warmth, closer to whatever’s on the other side. The second she finally breaks through, she shoots up in a bed, the sound of alarms blaring in her ears, in tune with her wild heartbeat. It’s a sensory overload like she’s never felt before; her skin feels cold and clammy, her eyes and ears overwhelmed by the light and sound. She whips her head around, in search of Cosima. 

 

Where did she run off to?

 

“Easy now. Just lay back. You’re okay.”

 

She hadn’t even noticed the other woman in the room— a doctor, judging by her white coat. She urges Delphine to lay back and as her words start to come into focus, Delphine does as she’s told. Memories come flooding back into her head— kissing Cosima goodbye, the sound of footsteps fast approaching from behind, a gun pointed at her. She closes her eyes and the sound of the gunshot rings out, causing her to jerk. When she opens them again, there’s yet another woman in the room, only she recognizes this one.

 

“Good. You’re awake.”

 

The last time she saw Marion Bowles, she was leaving the woman and her daughter behind in Frankfurt. This was hardly how she envisioned their reunion.

 

“Where am I? What is this?” she frantically asks, gesturing towards the machines.

 

“Don’t panic, Delphine. You’ll tear your sutures.”

 

She looks down, pulling up her hospital gown to reveal a neatly-stitched gunshot wound. The doctor walks over to the other side of the bed, turning off several of the beeping machines until there’s quiet again. Well, quiet aside from her racing pulse and heavy breaths, though they eventually begin to level out on their own. Marion asks for some privacy and the doctor leaves the room, leaving the two alone.

 

“You gave me a scare, Delphine,” Marion smiles, stepping closer to the bed. “You were touch and go there for a second. We never meant for things to get quite _that_ messy.”

 

“What’s going on? Why am I—”

 

“Alive?” Marion finishes for her.

 

Nealon had promised her that she wouldn’t live until morning. Hours later, she found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. He’d stared at her with a blank expression, one she wasn’t expecting. She’d expected him to gloat, to throw some snide comment her way before he finally pulled the trigger, but he’d carried out the task with the same, cool efficiency as he did with every other. She knew from the second she received his phone call about Sarah Manning on the loose in London that there was a real possibility that Ferdinand would be her end. Her only question is, why hadn’t he just shot her in the head? 

 

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Marion adds, sensing her confusion. “If we hadn’t got to you first, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

 

“We?” Delphine counters. “Who’s _we_?”

 

“That’s… a difficult question to answer,” Marion replies in a breath of almost laughter.

 

Delphine frowns, uneasy.

 

“We always find our friends in the strangest places, don’t we?” 

 

Marion smiles again, stepping in closer. She brushes a strand of hair out of Delphine’s face, tucking it behind the blonde’s ear. It’s meant to be a comforting gesture, but there are way too many variables at play for Delphine to trust any comfort that’s offered to her. Marion perches herself on the edge of the bed.

  

 “Lay back. Rest,” she tells Delphine. “I’ll explain everything.”


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Wow, thanks so much for the overwhelming support. I’m glad you guys are really into this concept. This next chapter is mostly plot, meant to get the ball rolling. As always, comments are much appreciated. I love hearing from you all :)

“You’re lucky I had Ferdinand intercept you.”

 

“Ferdinand?” 

 

She remembers his face, stoic and impenetrable in reaction to her question about Cosima’s well-being. Then, he raised his gun and aimed it directly at her. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see that he would be her assassin. She’d expected the Neolutionists to send someone else, but if they’d sent the order down from Topside, it made sense that they would send their best cleaner to do the job.

 

“Yes,” Marion confirms. 

 

“You… you had him _shoot me?”_ Delphine asks incredulously.

 

She tries to sit up a little straighter in the bed, but even with the pain meds she’s sure are flowing through her, her wound still aches and so she must be careful. Marion continues to stare down at her from her perch on the bed’s edge, smiling sympathetically at the blonde.

 

“I didn’t have much of a choice, Delphine,” Marion says softly. “The Neolutionists were about to make their move and you were exposed. If I’d left you in there, you would have been killed.”

 

“So why not let them kill me?”

 

“Kill you?”

 

Marion chuckles, as if the question is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever head. She reaches forward, finding the collar of Delphine’s hospital gown and fidgeting with it. She then smoothes out the wrinkles of the gown in a display of what the doctor can only discern as strange affection.

 

“Delphine, you’re one of my most powerful allies. Why would I let them kill you?”

 

“Not so powerful now,” Delphine mutters beneath her breath.

 

She tried to be before. She tried to maintain control. She tried to protect Cosima, protect Leda, but all she had done was draw out an even more powerful enemy than Castor. She tried to play her cards right, but all it got her was a bullet and a hospital bed so very far away from where she wanted to be. Any power she may have once had, any illusion of it, was now gone.

 

“On the contrary,” Marion chimes in, sensing her dejection. “You just proved that I can trust you above all else. An ally you can trust completely is your strongest ally.”

 

Marion’s faith surprises her. She doesn’t know exactly what she’s done to earn it.

 

“You think you can trust me?” she asks. “And why’s that?”

 

“Because our interests line up,” Marion shrugs, the answer obvious. “You’re completely devoted to Leda. I _need_ that devotion.”

 

She remembers the first time she met Marion, thinking she was so different from the other Topside board members. While they had been cold and rigid, Marion possessed a more human-like quality. Then she met Charlotte and it all made sense— Marion was just as invested in Leda as she was. That’s why she reached out to Delphine in the first place, pulled her back from Frankfurt and inserted her into Rachel’s seat. The older woman had sensed the great threat Castor posed to Leda’s safety and she trusted Delphine to “do what was necessary,” to protect Leda and act in their best interests. 

 

“How’s Charlotte?” Delphine finally thinks to ask.

 

Marion grows unnervingly silent. She rises from the edge of the bed and walks across the room, stopping in front of a framed, black and white photograph of the Sydney Opera House. She stares at it for a moment, her back turned to Delphine as she gathers her thoughts.

 

“They took her,” she finally answers, her voice low and wavering. 

 

Delphine gasps quietly, surprised.

 

“Marion, what happened?”

 

Marion turns back around to face her, composed once again even though the glimmer of unshed tears still lingers in her glossy orbs.

 

“Not long after we had our meeting, I was ambushed,” Marion starts.

 

“By who?”

 

“Topside.”

 

“Topside?”

 

“The Neolutionists inside Topside,” she clarifies, walking back over to Delphine, her heels clicking with every step. “I had my suspicions for a while, but nothing concrete. Nothing that I could act on. They’d been quiet for so long and then suddenly, it was like someone woke the beast. They took me by surprise.”

 

It finally made sense to Delphine now. Of course there was someone pulling the strings from behind the scenes, _something_ pulling the strings. She always had the feeling, though she couldn’t be sure who or what. Her encounter with Nealon, despite being horrifying, proved to be insightful and now she could put a name to the enemy, though their motives still remained unclear.

 

“Why would they come after you?” she asks, confused.

 

“It wasn’t me they were after. They came for Charlotte.”

 

She’s even more confused.

 

“For Charlotte? Why?”

 

Why, after waiting patiently for so long, would the Neolutionists decide to make a move so suddenly? And why would they come after Charlotte? It must have something to do with Leda, though Delphine is unable to entirely piece that part together.

 

“I don’t know. But they have her now and I need to get her back,” Marion replies. “I need to shut them down, Delphine. _We_ need to shut them down, before they cause any more damage.”

 

Delphine nods in understanding. Marion’s trust in her makes perfect sense now and, in turn, she finds herself able to fully trust the dark-haired woman who stands at her bedside. They’re bound by their mutual love of Leda, by a love that refuses to lay down easy so long as danger looms.

 

“Sarah must have spurred them into action. She recovered Duncan and exposed Castor. She either forced them into making a move or created the opportunity they’d been waiting for. Perhaps both,” Marion remarks. “Either way, they’re pushing forward and we need a way to push back.”

 

“How do we do that?” Delphine asks, her eyes following Marion as she paces across the room.

 

“By working together,” Marion answers. “You. Me. Leda. Ferdinand.”

 

Delphine huffs at the mention of his name. Even if he did shoot her under Marion’s orders, she can’t forget Helsinki, she can’t forget his affinity for Rachel. Ferdinand isn’t invested in Leda the same way they are, he’s invested in _power_ and she suspects that Leda is nothing more than a means to an end for him.

 

“Ferdinand can’t be trusted.”

 

“Well, for the time being, he can. He’s all we’ve got,” Marion throws back.

 

Delphine frowns, unsatisfied with Marion’s response. Sensing this, Marion delves into her own defence of the man who’d nearly killed the blonde.

 

“When I was ambushed, they took Charlotte and tried to eliminate me. As far as Topside knows, I’m dead. I was forced underground. That’s why I haven’t made contact with you. I would have done so sooner if I could have, but I have to be careful,” she reveals.

 

“I understand.”

 

Someone in Marion’s position had to play their hand very carefully. Delphine had come to learn this in her short time as the DYAD director. There was nothing more crucial than a well-timed and well-played hand. 

 

“After everything went down, I started reaching out for allies. Ferdinand came up.”

 

“I don’t know how that man could have ever crossed your mind.”

 

“First of all, Ferdinand’s a very ambitious man. He also hates Neolutionists. Those two things in combination make him a prime ally,” Marion explains. “I contacted him. Like you, I wasn’t sure if I could trust him entirely, but I told him what I knew anyway. I told him that the Neolutionists had breached Topside, that they had an agenda of their own. I told him that if he sided with me, we could remove them and he’d have a seat on the newly-vacant board.”

 

“And he went along with it?” Delphine counters.

 

“Ferdinand looks out for himself first and foremost. He always has. He likes to keep his options open, play all the angles,” Marion says, walking back over and settling on the edge of Delphine’s bed again. “He didn’t see how siding with me would benefit him. He told me he would “consider my proposal” and I hadn’t heard from him since.”

 

That sounded just like the smug cleaner she knew. 

 

“What changed his mind?”

 

Marion smiles down at her. 

 

“You did,” she answers. “You and Sarah Manning.”

 

Delphine can’t hide her surprise. Marion laughs, giving the doctor’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

 

“Sarah’s resourcefulness impressed him, as did your own. I think he came to see what a dangerous team you two can be when you come together,” Marion explains. “And once he had confirmation that everything I’d told him was true, that there were Neolutionists inside Topside and Castor, his decision became quite clear.”

 

A decision which culminated in the brutal murder of his own associate. Perhaps it was a stroke of luck, but seeing how quickly Ferdinand is willing to turn on a supposed “ally,” Delphine still can’t bring herself to place her trust in him.

 

“He contacted me to tell me he was on board. He also told me what went down at DYAD, how you’d been the one to figure out that the Neolutionists have been pulling all the strings. I knew that knowledge put your life in danger and I knew we had to act immediately. We had to extract you, Delphine. It was the only way,” Marion adds.

 

“And you couldn’t tell me this because…?”

 

“Well, there wasn’t any time,” the brunette reasons. “That, and because the Neolutionists had already ordered your assassination. The order came down to Ferdinand and I saw it as an opportunity.”

 

“An opportunity?”

 

“That’s right,” Marion confirms. “We could fake your death, get you out of DYAD without our enemies knowing anything, and also solidify Topside’s trust in Ferdinand.”

 

“I don’t care about Ferdinand,” she sighs, making no attempt to hide her agitation surrounding the unfolding situation.

 

“Well, you should. He’s our new best friend. And he’s the new director of DYAD.”

 

That little piece of information captures her full attention. 

 

“What?” she asks, trying to sit up even straighter.

 

She winces in pain and Marion places a gentle hand on her chest, softly pushing her back down on the bed so that she won’t strain herself. Delphine hesitantly complies. She knows that Marion is right, that she shouldn’t be sitting up and trying to push herself. What she needs now more than anything is time to rest and recover, but knowing that Leda is in danger won’t allow her any peace of mind.

 

“Topside was expecting him to return with the original samples. When he didn’t, that put his life on the line,” Marion explains. “ It was crucial that he maintained his position and carrying out your hit not only proved his worth, but it kept their trust in him. They made him the new director and now he’s in a position of power, one that can help all of us.”

 

“Power?” Delphine scoffs. “Do you really think the DYAD director has any power at all? Trust me, it’s an empty title.”

 

“Maybe,” Marion passively agrees. “But I’d rather someone I trust sitting in that seat than an enemy or an unknown, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

She stands up again, straightening her skirt.

 

“In any case, this was the best possible outcome,” Marion sighs. “You’re alive, my life remains a secret and we have someone we can trust at DYAD, someone on the ground who can watch over Leda.”

 

“That man tried to murder them all. I’ll _never_ trust him with Leda,” Delphine spits, her voice low.

 

Marion smirks. She gives Delphine a quick once over, taking note of the fire in the French woman’s eyes. She laughs again, nodding.

 

“Well, if Sarah Manning can bring herself to do it, I’d hope you can, as well.”

 

As intended, her remark reigns in Delphine’s focus once again. She forgets her anger momentarily and considers Marion’s words.

 

“Sarah?” she curiously asks.

 

“Yes. Her and Ferdinand have been in contact,” Marion elaborates. “They’ll be working closely together from now on, working to shut down the Neolutionists, same as us. So you see, you and I now have a direct line to Leda through Ferdinand. We have a way to reach them without exposing ourselves to our enemies.”

 

The implication of Marion’s words suddenly come flooding in, hitting her like a tidal wave— they need Ferdinand to keep in contact with Leda because they’re unable to contact the sisters themselves. For Marion, it makes sense. Topside believes that she’s dead and she can’t risk revealing her identity. The only thing is, now Delphine finds herself in the very same position; she can’t risk exposing herself and that means she’ll be unable to reach out to Cosima. She suddenly becomes overwhelmed by a wave of anxiety.

 

“Cosima,” she utters. “What about Cosima?”

 

Is Cosima okay? She doesn’t even know how much time has passed since she's been shot, what’s transpired since she’s been out of commission. Marion’s demeanour shifts, she becomes somber and serious, sensing Delphine’s dread. She knows it well— it’s the same dread that fills her when she thinks of Charlotte, scared and alone and at the mercy of a group of zealots. It’s the dread that comes when you realize that you’re unable to help the one person you love most.

 

“I’m afraid… you won’t be able to make contact with her,” Marion says quietly.

 

“Does she know?” Delphine asks. “Does she know I’m still alive? Or does she think I’m…?”

 

Marion’s frown becomes even more pronounced.

 

“For all intents and purposes, Delphine Cormier is dead.”

 

She can almost see Cosima now, broken and defeated upon learning of the blonde’s supposed demise. She knows Cosima better than anyone, knows that the clone will blame herself for this. She’ll blame herself, _hate herself_ , and the very thought of such a thing is too much for Delphine to bear. She shakes her head enthusiastically from side to side, rejecting the idea.

 

“I can’t. I can’t do that to her,” she says, her voice quaking with emotion. “I can’t put her through that. _I won’t._ ”

 

“You don’t have a choice.”

 

She inhales deeply, allowing oxygen to flood her lungs and brain. Then, she exhales. She repeats this process several times, trying to regain her bearings, trying to screw her head on properly. It’s easy to rationalize Marion’s words, but her heart won’t allow her to, not when visions of a broken down Cosima keep flashing through her mind. 

 

“I can’t let her live with that. It will destroy her.”

 

Marion approaches her, mindful of the younger woman’s tears as they stream down her face in heavy, scorching trails. She’d cried the very same tears herself when she watched as her daughter was taken by a group of men, kicking and screaming and calling out for her mother.

 

“Reaching out to her now will kill you. Maybe her, as well.”

 

Once again, she sits on the edge of the bed and watches as Delphine’s tears become more violent, her body heaving as she comes to the realization that Marion is right. If the Neolutionists find out that she’s still alive, there’s a very real possibility that they could come after Cosima in retaliation. As infuriating as Marion’s plan is— trusting Ferdinand and operating from the shadows— she knows that there isn’t a better alternative. Marion reaches out, resting her hand atop Delphine’s head and gently stroking her hair in an attempt to comfort her. 

 

“Be patient, Delphine,” she tells her. “We’ll end this.”

 

Delphine looks up to meet Marion’s eyes. They’ve mineralized, becoming impossibly hard but still maintaining a gleam of their own. She sees thunder and lightning, fire and fury. She sees a woman changed, a woman ready and willing to do what is necessary. She sees a quiet wrath that threatens to consume all of their enemies. She thinks back to their last meeting, back to when Marion had sent her back to Toronto to assume Rachel’s position.

 

“This job requires a level of brutality and decisiveness. It requires sacrifices,” Marion had told her. “It isn’t easy, but you need to be willing to make them for the greater good. Sometimes, you have to cut out your own heart to protect it. I need to know that you can do that, Delphine. I need to know that you can put your hopes and dreams and feelings aside and do what needs to be done.”

 

“I can,” Delphine had answered.

 

At the time, she wasn’t so convinced by her own words. Convincing herself had been a process, one that required not only an outward makeover, but an interior one, as well. But even then, even as she looked in the mirror every morning at a face she could barely recognize, she still wasn’t completely convinced that her transformation had been successful. Maybe no one else could see the cracks, but _she could_. She was always able to see them, from the time she was a child; she would sit at the piano and spend hours practicing, hours _perfecting_ , listening to the praise of her peers. They never caught any of her mistakes, any of her falters as she played through a piece, but she was all too aware of them. She catalogued them, stored them away for later use. After a time, she had gathered so many that she almost didn’t know what to do with them anymore. She was drowning in them, drowning in an icy tub full of red water as the sound of a classmate’s scream rang out and filled the halls in the oh so early hours of the morning. After that night, she’d had yet another fault to add to her infinitely growing list, a constant reminder of her own shortcomings— metatarsal arteries.

 

“We’ll erase Neolution,” Marion reassures her, her voice hard and steady. “I’ll get my daughter back and you’ll see Cosima again. I can promise you that.”

 

Delphine swallows hard. She nods, abandoning her tears.

 

“What do you need me to do?”

 

 

 


End file.
